Chapter 12 #2
It was strange to see Ethan so empathetic. And although I didn’t like Mrs. Darlington much, it was heartwarming to know he wanted to be there for his mum. Maybe in part because my own family couldn’t really be there for me right now.
“Now you know one of my secrets.” He sounded oddly relieved, as if he were glad to have finally spoken the words out loud. “Now you have to answer a question. And be honest, please. How are you doing?”
My chest tightened. “Veto.”
“Grace . . .”
I cut him off. “Ask me another question.”
“I don’t want to. I want to know how you’re doing.”
His question made no sense. In the time I’d known him, he’d barely shown the slightest interest in me.
He hadn’t asked how I was even once before all this, too busy behaving like an arrogant arsehole.
Why was he suddenly acting like he cared?
Was he trying to lull me into a false sense of security so that he could throw it back in my face later?
But what would he gain from that? “Why do you want to know?”
“Why did you want to hear a secret?” he shot back. I had no answer. He was right. Knowing his secrets didn’t get me anywhere. I just wanted to know for his sake. “So, how are you doing?”
“Great.”
“You’re not allowed to lie,” he admonished.
Why did I feel like he already knew the truth, without needing to hear me say it?
He saw straight through me. Screw the cracked mask.
I might as well take it off completely, since he already knew what was beneath it.
“Has no one ever told you it’s not nice to put someone on the spot like this? ” I asked.
“Has no one ever told you it’s not nice to lie?”
I snorted. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”
“How about the truth?” Ethan suggested, and something inside me broke. Tears welled up in my eyes. They didn’t spill over, but they blurred everything.
I blinked hard. “How do you think I’m doing?
My sister is dead. I’m not exactly having the time of my life.
In fact, it’s the absolute worst, most cruel, horrific time.
I don’t want to get up in the mornings or go to sleep at night, because I hate waking up every day to a world without Amy.
I feel terrible, like I’ve been sick for a thousand years.
And I’m terrified it’ll never get better. Does that answer your question?”
It was hard to breathe, and my pulse was racing. I could hardly believe I’d just poured my heart out to Beelzebub. His eyes scanned my face, as intense as a touch. But for the first time since our conversation had begun, it had no effect on me. Inside, I was ice-cold.
“It’ll get better,” he said eventually. His words didn’t sound like empty platitudes, but like a promise. “I get why you think it won’t, but someday you’ll look back on today and realise that your heart feels a little less heavy and your mind a little less dark.”
I swallowed. “How do you know?”
“I just know. Life can’t stay dark forever.”
“But what if it does?”
“It won’t. You just need a little hope.”
“What if I have none left?”
“Then I’ll give you some of mine.” Although he had lowered his voice almost to a whisper, his words rang out loud and clear. I could sense there was a story behind them. But before I had the chance to press him, he was already asking the next question. “Do you want to tell me something about Amy?”
I’d only promised to answer one question, but I loved nothing more than talking about Amy.
And I didn’t care who was listening, not even if it was Ethan Darlington.
“She was my best friend,” I said. I tore off a bit of sandwich, which suddenly tasted even blander.
“I don’t know if you knew this, but we weren’t just sisters.
We were twins. We went to kindergarten together and were even in the same class at school.
For a long time, we had the same friends and were never really apart.
I can count on my fingers the number of days we didn’t see each other before she died .
. .” But now, it’s already been sixty-six.
“That must be pretty cool,” Ethan said. “Having a twin.”
“Yeah. Thanks to Amy, I was never lonely.”
“I imagine that’s a wonderful feeling.”
I swallowed, feeling the lump in my throat grow. “It was. But now the loneliness feels all the worse.”
Ethan didn’t respond, but stretched out his leg, his foot brushing lightly against mine. It was the smallest touch, but in that moment, the tiny gesture comforted me more than any words could. And the fact that it came from Ethan was the most surprising part of all.
“Amy was amazing,” I went on. It struck me that I hadn’t really talked to anyone about her since her death, only about what had happened to her.
“Everyone liked her. She hated swearing and never had a bad word to say about anyone. Not even about the boy in year three who spat paper pellets into her hair. She loved people and always wanted to help. The only person she ever hated was you.” Amy only ever lost her cool with people who treated me badly.
“Why did she hate me?” Ethan asked, offended. “I’m a person too.”
“No, you’re Beelzebub,” I corrected him with a smile, though he didn’t seem nearly as diabolical now as he once had. He had changed over the past few months. I didn’t know why or what had brought his transformation about, but I liked this new, slightly more level-headed version of Ethan.
He snorted, but I could tell that he was secretly proud to have made me smile. The realisation stirred a strange, pleasant feeling in my stomach—not heat, just gentle warmth.
“But seriously—she really hated you on my behalf. You were a real jerk to me back then, and Amy couldn’t stand it. I had to do a lot of overtime thanks to all your parties, because you and your friends were apparently incapable of telling the difference between the floor and the bin.”
“I’m sorry.” His apology sounded sincere.
I waved it off. At the end of the day, it was my job. One I actually liked, all things considered. I had once thought of The Darlington as a stopgap for me, but I wasn’t so sure if that was still the case.
I tossed the sandwich wrapper into the bin attached to the cleaning trolley.
“Amy wanted to be a doctor and work in cardiology like our dad. She was really smart and sensitive. It’s what her patients probably would have loved most about her.
She always knew right away when something was wrong.
It was like a sixth sense. A superpower she was born with.
Even when I tried to hide my feelings from her, she knew when something was off.
And then she’d get us ice cream and let me pour my heart out for hours. ”
Ethan regarded me thoughtfully, saying nothing—just watching me with that piercing gaze of his. I wondered what was going through his head and whether I had maybe gone too far. He’d asked me to tell him something about Amy, not spill her entire life story.
I was about to apologise for my word dump, but he spoke first.
“I may not be Amy, but I have ears—and ice cream in the freezer.” He shrugged. “Well, protein ice cream. It’s not the tastiest, I’m afraid. But we could always get you good ice cream from the kitchen . . .”
His words hung in the air between us. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Was that an offer? An invitation? Or was he making fun of me? No, there was no trace of humour in his voice. He seemed serious, and above all, genuine. The warmth in my belly intensified uncomfortably. What was happening?
I jumped to my feet so abruptly that I felt dizzy for a moment, though I managed to shake it off quickly. “I have to work,” I announced, grabbing the cleaning trolley. It was the truth, yet it still sounded like an excuse.
I hurried off before Ethan could respond. He got up and followed me. I wasn’t sure if that made him a gentleman or a stalker—probably neither. What else was he supposed to do? Keep sitting in the corner at the end of the corridor?
I had initially planned to tackle his flat next, but now I pushed the cleaning trolley straight past his door. I needed a little distance to cool the strange warmth inside me. Finding Beelzebub attractive was one thing, but thinking he was kind was something else entirely.
“Grace?”
I felt my heart leap towards Ethan.
“Next time you don’t want to spend your break with the others, you’re welcome to come to me. The seats at my kitchen island are a lot more comfortable than this floor.”